


GLORFINDEL LION-HEART

by erestor



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel wishes he had a lion-heart. And Erestor.</p><p>Chapter 1: Stolen apples, Sloe liquor from Mirkwood and the perils of reaching majority.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

"I think I would be scared to death if I should ever encounter him at night," Melpomaen said, dangling his legs. The young Elf sat beside his friend on the wall separating Lord Elrond's apple trees from the courtyards. While the wall was rather effective at keeping courtyards away, it was pretty useless when it came to preventing the apples being stolen by the great number of Elflings running wild in Imladris. And though neither Melpomaen nor his friend were Elflings anymore, they still appreciated the sweet fruits very much, and so both were chewing on their apples.

Or Lord Elrond's apples, if one wanted to nitpick.

"Of course, you would also be scared to death if you encountered him alone in bright daylight," Glorfindel grinned, and Melpomaen threw the core of the apple over his shoulder, where it hit Lord Elrond's cat who had been dozing in the late afternoon sun. The animal hissed and trotted a little further into the garden, out of the young Elves’ reach.

"Well, who would not! Especially you, fraidy-cat!"

Glorfindel sighed. It was all too true - he was a coward. He could not tell whether it was a tragedy that his parents had named him after Gondolin's great warrior, or one of those cosmic pranks the Valar enjoyed to pull on the Eldar once in a while. His parents had probably hoped that this name would encourage their son to strive for a great future but, unfortunately, Glorfindel had so far not excelled at anything. He looked down at his skinny knees, then over to the patrol that had just arrived, and sighed even more deeply.

"I bet he is not afraid of anything," he said, and Melpomaen laughed.

"Erestor? Afraid? No, I really cannot see that. It is rumoured that the Haradrim stick his picture to the rears of their Mûmakil to make sure nobody is stealing them."

"My ada would say that the arse of a mûmak was the best place to stick any picture of Erestor's," Glorfindel replied, and the two young Elves broke out in loud laughter. It was known all over Imladris that Glorfindel's father, who was tutoring Lord Elrond's children, would have carried the captain of Imladris' troops in his own arms to Mordor if Lord Elrond had allowed it. Erestor stood for just about anything that the tutor loathed. He often said that the only time Erestor had touched a book in his life had been when he had thrown it after one of his guards.

No, Glorfindel mused, Erestor was not one to sit down and read books. Or one for small talk. Or poetry. Or flowers. Erestor lived for horses, warfare, wine and love. Or whatever it was that the daredevil of an Elf considered love. At his home, such things were not discussed, but Glorfindel had overheard more than once conversations between his parents, believing him to be in bed and asleep, where his ada expressed his disgust for Erestor's undertakings. He remembered well one night where all of Imladris had been in a tizzy after his guards had brought an injured Erestor back. The face of the captain and his chest were covered in blood, and at first, Lord Elrond had been beside himself with worry.

This had changed into a rage attack when the Lord of Imladris had learned that the cause for Erestor's injury had not been an ambush by Orcs or an attack by Wargs, but a husband who had returned earlier from a journey than expected and found his wife in a rather explicit situation with the captain, which resulted in a ferocious swordfight in the bedchamber.

It had taken Lord Elrond a lot of work to save Erestor's left eye. He had been successful, once again confirming his reputation as the best healer in Middle-earth. But ever since this incident, a large scar disfigured the left half of Erestor's face.

Alas, anybody who had been hoping that this experience would have made Erestor repent his roguish ways saw such hopes bitterly disappointed.

"He is bedding everything on two legs that is not a ladder," Glorfindel's father used to say, and this was certainly an opinion shared by many of Imladris' citizens. But despite his many flaws, Erestor was still admired and respected. He was loyal and did not fear anybody. His biting wit amused all those who were not the target of his sharp tongue, and while many Elves complained about his behaviour, most of them secretly admired Erestor for his spirit and the courage to do what pleased him.

Erestor and the patrol had entered the courtyard after Glorfindel and Melpomaen had sat down on the wall, and so the two young Elves had the best places to watch the spectacle. And it was a spectacle. Erestor and his patrol, all of them rogues to befit their captain, made sure their arrival was noisy and wild. They brought their horses to a halt rather close to the fountain in the centre of the courtyard, and three of the warriors jumped off their horses with a loud yell and right into the water.

Erestor laughed, and then attempted to dismount his horse, a mean, evil-spirited black steed who bit and kicked everyone except his master. Glorfindel thought that Erestor was flowing off the back of the animal, in one swift, fluent motion. They must have been long and bothersome weeks out in the woods, because the dark Elf was covered in dust, grime and, much to Glorfindel's horror, a dark substance that looked suspiciously like blood. Erestor's long black hair was braided messily in a single, thick braid which hung down his back. There was a wound on his forehead, untreated and encrusted with dried blood. But still Erestor looked as if he would enjoy himself immensely.

"Now look at this," Melpomaen whispered. "He brought half the wood with him. Uh, he really needs a bath." He pinched his nose and rolled his eyes theatrically, and once again, Glorfindel had to stifle a giggle.

"Be quiet, or he will hear you," he hissed, and elbowed Melpomaen in the side, which only caused more laughter.

"I always enjoy a good joke, would you mind sharing yours with me?"

The laughter died down immediately and both young Elves stared wide-eyed at Erestor, who had sneaked up to them without a sound, and was now grinning at them. He had very white teeth, Glorfindel noticed, and they looked quite sharp. Glorfindel would not have been surprised in the least if he had heard that Erestor preferred to eat meat in the raw.

Melpomaen and Glorfindel shrunk visibly, and were not able to say a word. Melpomaen was so scared of the idea that he had angered Erestor and might face bitter retaliation now that he did not notice the mirth in the captain's eyes.

Glorfindel still held his apple, unable to move or speak.

"Well, will you share your merriment now? I am waiting. You see, I would be grateful if you could hurry up, because I long for a bath. I need one, I guess."

Melpomaen turned brick red, and would have given anything for the ability of turning invisible. Erestor was so tall, so intimidating and so... very much Erestor.

The captain arched an eyebrow.

"I see. I will not hear any jokes today. How very, very regrettable this is. Well, young Master Melpomaen, I hope you will have the courage to talk to me some other time."

Melpomaen almost dropped off the wall, and finally, his tongue decided to work again.

"You... you know me?" he squeaked, and Erestor graced him with a wolfish smile.

"But of course I do. Note well, young one, that nothing happens in Imladris without me knowing it. Be it lords, ladies, peasants or Elflings - I know about their ups and doings."

Glorfindel had watched the conversation with increasing fascination. Erestor, he was sure by now, meant no harm; he just wanted to tease them. He was gentle and witty, but one look into those dark eyes and Glorfindel knew that there was steel under the velvet. Everything about Erestor screamed "warrior". He could not imagine him wearing a robe, reading a book or listening to one of Lindir's romantic tunes. But Glorfindel could well imagine Erestor unleashed, in a murderous frenzy...

"And you, young Glorfindel, are you already looking forward to your coming of age ceremony?"

Glorfindel, lost in his musings, started when he realised that Erestor had addressed him.

"I... I suppose so," he stammered, and looked down at his half-eaten apple.

Erestor reached out and put two fingers under Glorfindel's chin, gently lifting it so that the young Elf had to look at him.

"You should. This is the best time of your life, young Glorfindel. Carefree and happy. And come next week, you will be your own master. You will make decisions, fall in love and fall in hate. This is an important time, make good use of it. Be courageous. Take risks."

Glorfindel, unable to speak, nodded automatically. Erestor smiled, and this time it was not wolfish or mocking - it was the understanding smile. Glorfindel silently wondered what Erestor had been like at his age - had he already been so fearless?

"I am not courageous," Glorfindel answered, suddenly feeling a little more at ease in the presence of the intimidating captain. "I am nothing special at all. I cannot sing, I cannot dance, I have never been very good at my studies, and I am afraid of far too many things. My uncle said I have the wits of a sheep, and I fear he is right."

Erestor frowned, and Glorfindel shuddered under the scrutinizing gaze of those dark eyes.

"Glorfindel, it does not matter if you have the wits of a sheep or the low attention span of a trout. All that matters is that you have a lion's heart. Never forget this."

Erestor let go of Glorfindel's chin, and straightened up.

"I hope to make your uncle's acquaintance at your ceremony, young Glorfindel. I am quite sure he and I will engage in a most interesting discussion."

"You... you want to come to my ceremony?" Glorfindel gasped, staring at the captain in disbelief.

Erestor nodded.

"But of course. I saw you sleeping in your cot, I saw you playing with your building-bricks, and I watched you picking flowers in Lord Elrond's garden. I hope I will see you finally doing more exciting things, and I expect you to dance with the prettiest young lady present. This aside, my presence will annoy your father, which in return will delight me to no end."

Erestor took the apple out of Glorfindel's hand, took a big bite and returned it to the young Elf, who still stared at him like the rabbit at the snake.

"Delicious apples. Enjoy them; I shall be off to my bath now, young thieves."

With that, he turned around and went to look after his horse.

And Glorfindel stared at his apple.

* * *

"I am so proud of you," Glorfindel's nana sniffed, and hugged him tightly. It was about the twentieth time she had done so during the day, and while Glorfindel had put up with it before the ceremony, he found this to be undignified behaviour now. After all, he was officially an adult, and should be shown some respect.

Glorfindel was surrounded by family and friends, but he did not listen to their well-wishing and chatter. Lord Elrond, who had been so kind to conduct the ceremony, had talked about responsibility and duty, about the importance of contributing to the community and family. To Glorfindel, those words had been like a gentle breeze - hardly noticeable and immediately forgotten.

'Be courageous. Take risks,' Erestor had said. Easier said than done! What risks could be taken here in Imladris? Stealing one of Lord Elrond's apples had been one of the most wicked things Glorfindel had ever done. There were no dangers or adventures in Imladris. The only dangerous thing so far had been the five young ladies who had clung to Glorfindel's robe ever since the ceremony had ended. They had almost started a fistfight over who was allowed to dance with Glorfindel. He had taken advantage of the argument and disappeared.

'I expect you to dance with the prettiest young lady present'. He wished Erestor had delivered a manual to go with that advice. Glorfindel was shy, and while the young ladies present were fair enough, he did not feel drawn to them. As a matter of fact, he was quite happy in his quiet corner, watching the festivities in his honour without having to participate in them.

"You look far too serious for one who has just reached adulthood."

Glorfindel almost jumped in the air when he heard Erestor's voice behind him. How did the captain manage to sneak up without a sound? This was very unsettling. Glorfindel turned around, and took a step back at the sight of Erestor. The captain was not wearing a robe, and Glorfindel doubted that he even possessed such a garment, but his clothes were exquisite, brown silk and velvet and soft, dark green suede, and he looked very regal. Unlike most of the other Elves, he wore no jewellery, not even a ring.

Glorfindel swallowed hard, chastising himself for just staring, which was very rude.

"I enjoy watching people," he finally said. "This is all very confusing."

Erestor nodded.

"I can well imagine. You are not one who seeks to be the centre of attention."

Glorfindel shrugged, then nodded.

"I suppose not. Yesterday I was still nothing but a young Elf, and now I am grown up. It takes time for me to... understand this."

"Here," Erestor said, and passed his goblet on to Glorfindel. "The best way to win life is by conquering it. And every conqueror needs a little bit of encouragement."

"Thank you," Glorfindel whispered, then sniffed on the fluid in the goblet. He wrinkled his nose.

"What is that?" he asked, and sniffed again. Erestor laughed upon seeing the suspicious expression on Glorfindel's face.

"It is Sloe. It is a speciality from my home realm. You distil white grain spirit and then you add sloe berries. It is very sweet; I thought you might like it and so I parted with some bottles for your festivities."

Glorfindel was touched, and took a sip of the beverage. He pulled a face; the taste was unfamiliar to him, and the liquid burned in his throat. But it was also good, sweet and dangerous and - he took another swig.

"Where is your home realm?" Glorfindel asked between two further sips.

"I hail from Mirkwood, and you should really not drink this too fast, Glorfindel, unless you wish to spend the night with your head over a bucket instead of resting in some pretty lady's arms."

Glorfindel almost spat out a mouthful of Sloe.

"Oh no, no, no ladies for me! I am not interested in such - things," he protested, and blushed. Erestor laughed and slapped his back.

"Maybe not tonight, but I would bet a lot of silver coins on your change of mind in that matter. You are now an adult, do as you please." Erestor winked at Glorfindel, and added: "And let be done what pleases you. Remember: you have a lion-heart."

Erestor winked again, then he returned to his friends who had gathered by the entrance of the balcony, each of them already rather drunk and laughing loudly.

Lion-heart. The laugh! Glorfindel decided that he would be better off spending the evening with this lovely drink in his goblet than musing over his shortcomings. And the more he drank, the better he felt. A warm feeling spread through his body, his fingers began to tingle and he had a rather dopey smile on his face. Admittedly, his legs became a little wobbly, but this was quite funny, and Glorfindel experimentally took a few steps.

Oddly enough, the floor seemed to move. How curious! Glorfindel did not even consider the possibility that he might be drunk. He was just happy, smiling and in love with the world. And ready to conquer it as well! Oh, there was nothing he could not do, despite being thin and skinny and having rather dull looking blond hair and the brain of a sheep.

He heard Erestor's laughter, and Glorfindel turned his attention to the captain. Erestor was drinking as well, but not from a goblet. He held a bottle by the neck, and now and again, he took a long swig. Every time one of his friends told a joke or, more likely, made a rude remark about someone, Erestor threw his head back, sending his black hair flying. He had opened the laces of his shirt, and exposed a long neck.

Glorfindel could see some of the tattoos the warriors of the Woodland Elves wore as signs of their victories. How come he had never noticed? It was as if the Sloe gave him the ability to see more clearly. Of course, Erestor wore the typical garments of a Mirkwood Elf. How had he come to Imladris, anyway? King Thranduil's people were not exactly known for their urbane ways.

Maybe he should ask him? Glorfindel giggled, and took another swig. Erestor was leaning comfortably against a pillar, and watched the crowd dancing, chatting and laughing. He seemed quite happy. And fair.

Fair? Glorfindel had never thought of Erestor as fair. His features were not as smooth and harmonious as was common among the Eldar, and then there was the scar, of course. But there was something about Erestor... maybe he would show Glorfindel the tattoos if he asked? Again, Glorfindel had to chuckle. It would be fun to see Erestor's face upon being asked such a bold question!

Glorfindel peeked in the goblet and found it empty. He sighed - no, the word "bold" could not be used in connection with himself. He was not bold. If he had been, he would have crossed the room and gone to Erestor, telling him - what? The young Elf's head spun and the floor seemed to move up and down. He had a very odd feeling in his stomach, and felt oddly light-headed.

Erestor looked at him. Glorfindel turned around to see if somebody was standing behind him, but he was all alone in his corner. And now the captain smiled and lifted his bottle in salute. 'You have a lion heart,' Erestor had said. How could he have such confidence?

Glorfindel returned the smile very shyly. 'Be courageous. Take risks.' Maybe he should? In the back of his head, an idea formed. It was bold and risky and probably completely mad, but it would take courage. And what day would be more fitting and suitable to be courageous for the first time in his life than this?

Glorfindel put the goblet resolutely on the table. He missed a plate only by luck, and then he began to walk with determination towards Erestor. He had to concentrate on every step, as the floor was moving and his head spinning, but all the time his view was locked with Erestor's. The captain saw Glorfindel approaching and arched an eyebrow.

"It looks like somebody is coming for more Sloe," one of his friends said, and laughed.

"It is his big day. He may have all the Sloe he wants," Erestor replied. By now, Glorfindel had reached him, and stood in front of Erestor, slightly swaying.

"More Sloe, Glorfindel?" Erestor asked, and waved his bottle.

"No..." Glorfindel tried to say more, but his tongue was so heavy. Erestor had three heads, which was very odd. Which was the real one? Glorfindel decided to go for the middle one, stood on his toes and pressed a kiss on Erestor's lips. Those who had seen this most interesting incident stopped their chatter and turned their heads and, within seconds, every Elf in the Great Hall of Imladris was staring at Glorfindel and Erestor. Glorfindel's mother fainted, and her husband cursed the fact that he had left his sword at home.

Alas, nobody looked more surprised than Erestor. For a moment, he felt anger rising about this intrusion and he gnashed his teeth, but then he looked at the happy face of the young Elf in front of him, the veiled gaze in the blue eyes. An innocent in every possible way, and certainly not with any malicious intent, so Erestor relaxed.

Glorfindel, however, tensed. His Sloe-induced euphoria began to wane, and all of a sudden, he noticed the silence around him. And Erestor looked at him - with pity?

Glorfindel felt as if somebody had poured a bucket with ice water over him. What had he done? The comfortable warmth in his stomach turned to cold and nausea. He had embarrassed himself in front of all of Imladris! And Erestor and his friends would probably laugh about him for at least two centuries! Erestor and his friends? All of Imladris, probably only with exception of his parents!

At the thought of his father's likely comment on this incident, Glorfindel fled. He pushed his way through the crowd and ran through the main door, out into the courtyard. Tears began to flow as soon as he was out in the mild night air, and then he ran as fast as he could. Away, only away from the place of his shame!

Meanwhile, Glorfindel's father had attempted to follow his son, but Erestor held him back.

"Let him go. He has to think things over, and he is old enough now to do so himself. Do not embarrass him further by treating him like an Elfling."

Glorfindel's father had a rather sharp rebuttal in mind, but when he looked into Erestor's eyes, he saw serious concern. And Erestor was right, of course. Glorfindel was not an Elfling anymore. It would take time for him to get used to this as well.

Erestor let go of the tutor and addressed the crowd.

"Stop gawping and continue to celebrate! There is nothing to see here!"

For a moment, there was silence, then the Elves of Imladris decided that it would be wiser and more entertaining to continue to laugh and dance instead of possibly facing Erestor's wrath.

"Here," one of his friends said, and handed Erestor a new bottle of Sloe. "I think you will need this."

* * *

The feast was over, and it had ended with the leading Elf missing. Neither hair nor hide had been seen of Glorfindel since his hasty departure, and only Lord Elrond's reassurances that no Elf would get lost in Imladris and that Glorfindel would certainly be well and safe could convince his parents to return home.

Only some servants were left, cleaning up the mess the feasting masses had caused. They were supported by Elladan and Elrohir, who helped by eating the rest of the cakes. Erestor stood outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. He loved the very early hours of the morning, when the day was nothing but a faint, dim light on the horizon. Despite his wise advice to Glorfindel's father, he was worried. He did not fear for Glorfindel's safety, but he could well imagine the turmoil that must be going on in Glorfindel's heart.

Erestor decided to go for a little walk before he went to bed. The incident this night had reminded him of his youth. He remembered well stolen kisses in the stable, first declarations of undying love. Unfortunately, King Thranduil had not been delighted in the least upon finding his son, Legolas, and Erestor in a haystack, and so Erestor had decided to leave Mirkwood. From all he had heard, Thranduil had become milder over the years, but Erestor was still very bitter about the way the first great love in his life had come to an end.

Now where would an embarrassed young Elf hide, Erestor mused. Not at home, with his outraged parents, this much was sure. The stables? Not very likely.

"I must be the last Elf Glorfindel would want to see right now," Erestor reasoned with himself. "So it would be the logical conclusion that Glorfindel hides somewhere I would never go to."

Erestor turned around and headed double quick back to the Last Homely House. For the first time since his arrival in Imladris, he would set foot in the library.

* * *

Erestor did not have to start a long search for Glorfindel. The young Elf sat behind one of the desks, and only looked up when Erestor stood next to him. He had been so engrossed in his misery that he had not heard the dark Elf entering.

"You missed your feast," Erestor said, and Glorfindel jumped up, throwing the chair over

"I am sorry," Glorfindel whispered. "I really did not want to do that! But my head was so funny, and I was so happy, and..." He broke off, confused and lost.

Erestor picked up one of the books on the desk and skimmed through it. "'The Love Life of the Stag Beetles'? Who on Arda reads such a thing?" he said, not going into Glorfindel's apology. He put the book back, and approached Glorfindel, who stood with his back against one of the shelves. Erestor was so close now, as close as he had been when he... had done the unspeakable thing. Glorfindel blushed again.

"Do not worry. People will discuss this for two or three days, then something else will tickle their fancy. It was only a kiss, not the end of the world. But I do have to ask - why did you do it in the first place?"

Glorfindel looked down at his shoes.

"I wanted to," he murmured.

Now look at this, Erestor thought, he has grown up very quickly. He reached out and cupped Glorfindel's face with his hands, gently coaxing him to look up.

"Personally, I think that the most important moment in an Elf's life is when he holds a sword for the first time. Alas, I am well aware that the majority of our fellow Elves would not agree. They would probably say that the first kiss is the major turning point in our lives. I would say that your first try does not count. Here is another piece of advice from me, Glorfindel: only kiss someone if you are sober."

Erestor tilted his head and kissed Glorfindel. His mouth stifled the surprised yelp the young Elf gave, which turned into a contented sigh very soon. Melpomaen had often announced that he would never, ever kiss anybody in his whole life, because it would be disgusting to have somebody else's tongue in your mouth. Glorfindel could not have disagreed more. This was the best moment in his life!

Erestor was mildly surprised by Glorfindel's enthusiastic reaction, but he did not refuse when the young Elf melted in his arms. He had only planned on giving Glorfindel a bit of a cheer up, and now he realised that he was rather enjoying this as well. Glorfindel clung to him like a leech, and if the young one did not let go soon, Erestor would probably suffocate. A nice way to die, no doubt, but a little early.

Glorfindel looked very disappointed when Erestor pulled away. Erestor gently stroked his cheek.

"As lovely as this is, do not forget to breathe, or your pleasure will be short-lived, young one," he joked, and Glorfindel gave him a dopey grin.

"This was nice," he simply said.

"Yes. And now you have to return home, fair young Glorfindel; your parents are waiting and worried about you."

Had Erestor asked Glorfindel to climb on the table and dance a Hobbit jig, Glorfindel would have probably done so. He was totally enchanted by Erestor.

"As you wish," he said, and Erestor shooed him out of the library. He was quite grateful that none of the Elves living in the Last Homely House showed up; explaining what he had done with Glorfindel at this time of the night in the library, of all places, would have been a little complicated.

Once outside, Glorfindel took a deep breath of the night air. He began to dance, spinning around and around.

"I am happy!" he giggled. "And my head is spinning!"

He stumbled on his wobbly legs, and would have fallen had Erestor not caught him. Glorfindel used the opportunity to cling to the warrior, and pulled him down for another kiss.

Now it was Erestor's turn to yelp.

"Will you let go of my son immediately!" a very angry voice screamed. Erestor immediately let go of Glorfindel, who had not really registered the commotion. He looked up at Erestor from half-lidded eyes, face flushed and hair tousled. Utterly enchanting, Erestor thought.

"Your son is well," he yelled, "but you should not run around here in your nightshirt, you will catch a cold!"

Glorfindel's father, really dressed in nothing but his nightshirt and armed with a pitchfork, became even angrier upon hearing Erestor's mocking voice, and stormed towards the captain cursing and roaring.

Erestor decided that it was neither the time nor the place to make the acquaintance of a pitchfork, so he winked at Glorfindel one last time, then turned and ran away, disappearing into the forest.

"What have you been thinking, Glorfindel!" his father cried, still clutching the pitchfork. "To embarrass yourself and our family in such a way! Of all the noble Elves there, you had to go and kiss that scoundrel!"

Glorfindel did not answer, he still gazed after Erestor, though the dark Elf had been gone for quite a while.

His father grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him.

"Glorfindel! I am talking to you!"

It was like waking up from a dream. Glorfindel reached up and touched his lips. They were tingling, and he could still taste Erestor. He turned to his father.

"I am sorry, ada, I did not listen. What did you say?"

His father threw the pitchfork away and towered over Glorfindel, arms akimbo.

"You will not go near that Elf again, Glorfindel. Not as long as I am alive. And now I will hear no more about this."

"No."

The father stared at his son, doubting his own senses. Had Glorfindel just said what he thought he had heard?

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I said: no. I will go close to Erestor again, and I will not go home with you now."

Glorfindel looked at his father, and for the first time, it was not a discussion between father and son, but between two adult Elves who knew what they wanted.

"Oh yes, you will," his father replied, but Glorfindel shook his head.

"No, ada. I am of legal age now. I can do whatever pleases me and go wherever I want to. And if I should ever feel like kissing Erestor again, then I will do it. And now you should really go home. Erestor was right, you might catch a cold."

Glorfindel turned around, letting his ada stand with a face expressing utter disbelief. There was a big smile on his face, his head was light and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering. His breathing calmed down to normal speed, and Glorfindel touched his chest. He could feel his heart beating.

His lion-heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor is not quite sure whether to look forward meeting his Mirkwood king or rather getting drunk. Meanwhile, Celebrían finds her suspicions confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

There was only one person in Imladris for whom Erestor made the effort of cleaning up before making a call, and that was the Lady Celebrían. He did not go as far as changing his garments, but at least he brushed the dust from the training grounds off his jerkin, then combed and re-braided his hair.

His knock on the door was answered with a cheerful "come in!", and Erestor entered. Celebrían, dressed in hunter's gear, sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace. Beside her was a small heap of goose feathers, and a pot hung over the fire. From the stench, Erestor concluded that it was glue. Celebrían held a half-finished arrow in her hand and was just about to finish the binding of the feathers when Erestor approached her.

"Has your hunt been lucky?" the captain asked, and Celebrían nodded.

"Indeed! A boar, and I was the one who shot it! Elrond missed by a long shot. But I ran out of arrows, and before I let one of your hacks make some for me, I would rather do it myself."

Erestor had to hide a grin when he saw the smug smile on her face. Knowing that he had the right to do so, he helped himself to a goblet of wine, and sat down opposite her. Erestor stared into the fire. Winter had come early this year, and he was glad to sit here on a bear's fur and warm his hands. Admittedly, Elves did not feel the cold the same way mortals did, but this did not mean they enjoyed freezing their noses off.

"So you asked for me." Erestor broke the companionable silence after a while, and Celebrían nodded. She put the finished arrow aside, and looked at the captain, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Indeed I did, for I need your help. As you know, Elrond has sent out invitations for the annual archery tournament this coming Time of Stirring."

Erestor nodded. "I know, and I am already looking forward to it. Our guards are in excellent form, so I hope they will finally manage to beat the Galadhrim. With all due respect, after two centuries, it would be about time."

Celebrían laughed. "I have no doubt, Erestor, and I know how much of a thorn in your side my father's smug grin is. But this is not the reason I called for you. As you know, Elrond has sent an invitation as every year to King Thranduil as well."

Erestor clenched his jaw. His feelings for his former king were not of a kind nature, but he did not comment. It was obvious the bad news was yet to come.

Celebrían reached for her own goblet and took a sip of the wine.

"To our greatest surprise, he accepted the invitation this year. He will not attend personally, though, but send one of his sons and a selection of his best archers."

Erestor was surprised, but did not show it.

"Which of his many sons is he sending?" he asked.

"Legolas."

"Ah."

This "ah" told Celebrían all she had suspected for many centuries already. She did not know why Erestor had left his home so many years ago and settled in Imladris, but she had always known that Legolas had something to do with it. While she did not have her mother's gift of foresight, Erestor's unease whenever talks turned to Thranduil's eldest son had been obvious. She did not like to expose Erestor to unpleasant memories, but it could not be helped: Legolas would visit Imladris.

"The reason why I asked for you, Erestor, is that I wish to make the stay for your kin as pleasant as possible. I admit that I do not know much about the customs in Mirkwood, but as it used to be your home, I hoped you could give me some advice."

Erestor cleared his throat.

"Well, make sure there is enough wine, and lock your daughter away," he said.

Celebrían laughed and threw her head back, sending the silver blond hair flying.

"Of this I have thought myself, Erestor! There will be wine aplenty, and Arwen will be grounded for the duration of the tournament. No, what I need to know is if there are any things your kin might find offensive that we would not, or if there are any customs we have to consider."

Erestor, who forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand and not get lost in bitter memories, thought about her question for a moment.

"Never insult their pride. One of the main reasons the Elves of Mirkwood loathe Lothlórien so much is the snobbish attitude your kin show, my lady. If it makes them happy, the Galadhrim may consider their Woodland kin to be as backwardly as they want, but they would be well advised not to voice such opinions in public. And it might be a good idea to remind all of Imladris that the Mirkwood Elves are warriors. They are not used to being outside of their own realm, and their ways might look a little… coarse to outsiders."

Celebrían nodded.

"I understand. You want us to show them the respect they deserve. This can certainly be done. Will you look after the delegation from Mirkwood, Erestor? I want them to enjoy their stay here, and as I know how remote their culture is, they might feel more comfortable if one of their own kin accompanies them."

Erestor paled, and she noticed well.

"My lady, you know that I always follow your orders, but I do not think that King Thranduil would approve of this."

Celebrían stood up. Erestor was once again impressed how she managed to look regal and awesome even wearing hunter's gear and with a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

"Erestor, please excuse my blunt language, but I do not give a rat's arse for King Thranduil's opinion. Imladris is our realm, and it is Elrond and I who have the say here. If the hermit in Mirkwood does not approve of it, he is invited to come here and voice his protests in person. I shall give him an answer suited to his complaint. You will look after the delegation from Mirkwood, period."

She put a hand on Erestor's shoulder, squeezing in lightly.

"This is, of course, unless you would not be happy with this task. If this should be the case, please tell me, and I shall relieve you of this duty."

Her voice, who had been sharp and commanding before, was now mellow and full of concern. Erestor suspected that she knew more about his history than he thought, but he shook his head.

"No. No, my lady. There is no need, I will look after them."

"Thank you, Erestor. I knew I could rely on you. And now for your next task!"

She took her bow and threw it to Erestor, who caught it in flight.

"It is chipped. Please bring it to the bow maker, and see if he can repair it. It is my favourite bow, I would hate to lose it."

Erestor bowed.

"I will do so immediately, my lady. If anybody can repair a bow, it is Glorfindel."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel decides he really, really does not like Legolas. And Erestor's reunion with Legolas is not at all what he had it expected to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

Glorfindel hurried to stick the "back soon" sign to the door of his shop, turned the key and headed for the courtyard. The delegation from Mirkwood was expected any moment and, like everybody else in Imladris, he was most curious to see those Elves who were more shrouded in legends than any other. He could not remember ever having seen a Mirkwood Elf in Imladris, with exception of Erestor, of course. The Lady Celebrían had instructed the Elves of Imladris not to behave in any manner that could be insulting to the guests from Mirkwood.

"Do not stand and stare at them as if they were dogs with two heads," she had said. Everybody had nodded, but as Elves were curious by nature, most of them suddenly remembered that they had some very urgent business to attend to near the courtyard that day, and Glorfindel was no exception.

It had to be pointed out, though, that his main interest was not any of the mythical Mirkwood Elves arriving, but the one Mirkwood Elf who would probably be there to welcome them. During the last century, Glorfindel had become a master in the art of watching Erestor without being seen. He did not want the captain to become suspicious or, even worse, make him feel stalked. All Glorfindel wanted was to look at Erestor and get lost in daydreams. Daydreams featuring Erestor, of course.

While Glorfindel walked down streets and alleys, his thoughts wandered once again back to the faithful day of his coming-of-age ceremony. How long ago had that been – a hundred years? More? Too long in any case to still spend time musing over it. One kiss, good grief! One kiss from an Elf who hardly noticed Glorfindel's existence, and yet his heart beat faster and he had butterflies in his stomach every time he saw Erestor. Nothing had changed about that. If anything, it had become worse over the years.

"How come I am not surprised to see you here as well?" a cheerful voice could be heard behind him, and Glorfindel stopped in his tracks to turn around.

"Melpomaen!" he called, honestly pleased to see his old friend. "How fare you? I have not seen you for quite a while!"

"Well, our youngest is teething at the moment, and so my wife and I take turns in soothing him at night. It all comes with the job of being a father. You remember my oldest, I suppose?"

Glorfindel looked at the child who hid shyly behind her father's legs and fiddled with the buttons of her dress.

"Of course I do, how could I forget a lady as lovely as that?" Glorfindel said, and the girl answered this compliment with a giggle and a blush. Melpomaen rolled his eyes.

"Do not encourage her vanity, she is already spending more time in front of the mirror than my wife! Will you accompany us? I am curious to hear how you have fared since we last met."

The two friends walked side by side, informing each other about the happenings of the last months. They were only interrupted by the questions of Melpomaen's daughter, and she had many of them. Every time he looked into her open, fresh face, Glorfindel felt a little stab in his heart. He could have had a family of his own years ago, but somehow… well, somehow nobody ever managed to make his heart flutter the same way Erestor did. If only there had been a draught to cure his illness! The only hope left for Glorfindel was that time would eventually heal him of this madness.

They had arrived at the entrance of the courtyard, and a good number of Elves were already gathered, all of them so inconspicuously gathered that even a half-blind dwarf would have noticed immediately that they were here for a purpose.

Melpomaen and Glorfindel stood for a good while, chatting and joking with the little girl, when all of a sudden a horn could be heard. It was a sound unknown in Imladris, but Glorfindel still knew that this must be the announcement of the Mirkwood delegation's arrival.

And what an arrival it was – for years after, Elves would still talk about it. Most of them had never seen an Elf from Mirkwood before, with exception of Erestor, whom they considered as "one of their own". Many had expected a display of uncivilized brutes, or aggressive, half-wild beings. Did they not live in caves? Even their king?

Alas, those who had hoped for havoc were disappointed. The delegation consisted of about fifty Elves. They rode their horses without saddles, only using a saddle cloth. Unlike the Imladris Elves, who favoured brightly coloured garments, the Mirkwood Elves wore the colours of the forest and the earth – browns and greens. With their dark hair and eyes, they almost looked like parts of the forest as well. There was a special magic about them, something wild, yes, but also enchanting.

"Forest sprites," Glorfindel said, looking at the riders in awe.

"Indeed. Most of the archers seemed to be still quite young, do you not agree? They look at us as curiously as we are looking at them. Now, where is this Legolas the mythical creature…?"

Both Melpomaen and Glorfindel stood on tip-toes to catch a sight of Thranduil's son who, oddly enough, did not lead the delegation, but rode a little behind the group.

"That is Legolas? The son of Thranduil the Terrible? Say - is he adopted?" Melpomaen asked, and Glorfindel had to stifle a grin. Even among the Eldar, who all were fair of face, Legolas was an exception. Unlike the rest of the group, his hair was golden, and though he was as much a warrior as the other Elves, he looked around with the wide-eyed wonder of a child.

"He must take after his mother's side then, I guess," Glorfindel said, "though Thranduil's hair is golden as well, so I heard."

"And his mood is usually as dark as Erestor's hair. And now look, as we are already talking about him…" Melpomaen pointed in the direction of the courtyard, where Erestor had turned up with his guards to greet the visitors from Mirkwood. He looked very stern, regal and, so Glorfindel thought, a little uncomfortable. How odd – should he not be happy to meet his kin again?

Erestor, who had planned this meeting to be as formal as possible, was just about to start his little speech of welcome. Legolas dismounted his horse in the same elegantly fluid fashion Glorfindel admired on Erestor and stormed past his Elves and towards the captain, who was speechless for a moment when he saw his old friend.

"Erestor! You have no idea how much I have been looking forward to seeing you again!" Legolas yelled, and before Erestor could say another word, he found himself tackled and thrown to the ground. When he recovered from his shock, he looked directly into Legolas' eyes.

"You have not changed at all," he finally managed to gasp.

"I hope so! You, however… say, where did you catch that thing here?" Legolas asked, still lying atop Erestor, and ran his finger along the scar disfiguring the left half of the captain's face. "Orc? Warg? Wild man?"

"No," Erestor said, shaking his head. "Jealous husband."

Legolas laughed, but made no attempt to move. Erestor was aware that half of Imladris was staring at them.

"Legolas, would you do me the favour and let me stand up? You have gained a couple of pounds over the years…"

"Oh. Certainly. Yes, my mother's cookery is still excellent! She sends her regards, by the way, and she hopes you will come to see her one fine day."

"A nice idea, and I thank her for her good intentions, but I really do not think your ada would be overly delighted if I set foot into Mirkwood again."

"I love my father with all my heart, as you certainly know," Legolas said, blowing a strand of blond hair out of his face. "But as far as you are concerned, I fully agree with her: he is an old dullard. And you know, I have really missed you."

With that, Legolas cut off any further comments from Erestor's side off by kissing him soundly, which caused the crowd to gasp in chorus. Glorfindel, who had watched the scene with increasing alarm, put his hand over his mouth to stifle a groan. Knowing of Erestor's amorous escapades was one thing, but actually seeing him with another Elf was a completely different kettle of fish. Had somebody pierced his heart with a sword, it could not have hurt him more.

"I see that our friends from Mirkwood have arrived."

Lord Elrond had appeared on the doorsteps of the Last Homely House, wearing robes of shimmering blue and silver. By his side was Lady Celebrían, beautiful and all dressed in white. Behind them their twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, could be seen. They both looked slightly uncomfortable in their robes, and Elladan repeatedly pulled on his collar which chafed on the skin of his neck. Arwen, on the other hand, was preening her new red dress.

"Oh yes, we have! Thank you for the invitation! I am Legolas!" Legolas said cheerfully, but without making any attempt to get up and let Erestor go free.

"I reckoned as much," Elrond said. "Well met, Legolas, son of Thranduil. We are all very happy to have you here in Imladris, and we hope that you will feel at home very soon."

Legolas smiled, and Elrond arched an eyebrow at his captain.

"Erestor, I would like to talk to you later on about this rather unusual welcome ritual."

Erestor looked at Legolas, who winked at him conspiratorially, and shrugged.

"Well, my lord, you told me to make sure that our guests are well entertained, and I am, as usual, only following your orders."

The crowd snickered, and also Elrond had to hide the hint of a smile on his face by turning his head towards his wife.

The only one not joining into the merriment was Glorfindel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much to Erestor's disapproval, Legolas is playing matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

"So, and now tell me: is there a special someone in your life, Erestor?" Legolas asked, and pressed another kiss on the nape of Erestor's neck.

"That is a very odd question, considering that we are both naked and just made our way through chapter 7 of 'Mirkwood Love Secrets'," Erestor muttered.

Legolas laughed.

"Something I definitely enjoyed very much, old friend. Your skills have very much improved since our last encounter. But I think I can safely say that neither you nor I intend to get married and ride off hand in hand into the sunset. Though I would love to see my father's face upon hearing such news."

"You are completely insane," Erestor said, "and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible."

Legolas caressed Erestor's side in a manner that made him shift, not sure whether to seek more contact or avoid it.

"Ah, still a little ticklish now, are you!" Legolas grinned. "But you have not answered my question yet, oh elusive one: has no Elf ever managed to capture your heart? No tender stirrings of your romantic soul? Butterflies in your stomach? Come on, you may tell me, I will keep your secret."

Erestor buried his face in the pillow. Legolas’ weight on his body felt good, and he certainly enjoyed their more intimate activities as much as hunting deer or competing in archery with Legolas, but the Mirkwood Elf was right: this was an encounter of old friends, not lovers. Oddly enough, Erestor felt very relieved about this.

When Erestor did not answer, Legolas decided that more serious methods had to be applied to make Erestor part with the information he wanted, and he began to tickle the captain.

"Stop that!" Erestor yelled, and bucked under Legolas, who giggled like a fiend and continued the tickling torture without mercy.

"Not before I know who holds your heart! Tell me!"

"Never!" Erestor gasped.

"Then suffer!" Legolas declared, and tickled Erestor's side until the Elf cried for mercy.

"Stop it! I will tell you everything! Lord Elrond keeps his jewels in a jerry under his bed!"

Legolas halted and scratched his head.

"In a jerry under his bed? I would have thought in his breeches, but what do I know… So, now tell me: who is she? Or is it a he?"

Erestor had to catch his breath first. Legolas was certainly exhausting him in every way possible!

"I am not married, and I have never been," he said, resting his chin on his crossed arms. "And I cannot say that I have ever been truly in love, the crush of my youth on the obnoxious son of King Thranduil aside. But there was once one who… touched my heart."

Legolas, aware of a certain undertone in Erestor's voice, stopped the teasing, and caressed Erestor's shoulder instead, covering it with tiny kisses.

"Tell me about it," he said.

Erestor cleared his throat.

"Well, I would not say that I was in love, but there was something about him… it was the night of his coming-of-age ceremony. I gave him Sloe to drink, and…"

"Sloe? You gave a young Elf Sloe for his coming-of-age ceremony?" Legolas cried, and slapped Erestor playfully up the head. "What did he do, tear off his clothes and dance on a table?"

"No. He kissed me."

"He – kissed you. Just like that," Legolas snorted, and snapped his fingers.

Erestor felt rather silly.

"Yes. It did not mean anything, though."

Legolas sighed.

"How many Elves were attending this ceremony, Erestor?"

The captain shrugged.

"Half of Imladris, I guess, plus some guests from Lothlórien."

"Aha. And among all those Elves, of whom especially the Lothlórien variety are known for their beauty, he went up to a one-eyed battle horse like you? Well, if that does not mean anything, then I do not know."

"Only means that he was drunk," Erestor muttered.

"Of course. And that was all? He kissed you? Must have been quite some kiss if you still remember it!"

"It was not really a kiss. Not that one, anyway."

Legolas arched his eyebrows.

"Good grief, conversations with you are like pulling teeth – so there was another kiss then?"

Erestor nodded.

"Yes. He was embarrassed and ran away, and I went looking for him. And then I kissed him."

"And that kiss was better?" Legolas inquired.

Erestor sighed deeply.

"Yes. Oh yes. It was like… the kind of… it was his first kiss, and he was… melting in my arms, you know? It was good."

"And? Why did you part?"

"Part?" Erestor shook his head. "That was all. We never were... there has never been a 'we'."

"Why not? You liked him. He obviously liked you. So where was the problem?"

Erestor groaned.

"Legolas – if you had listened to my story, you would have heard that I said he was celebrating his coming-of-age ceremony that day. I am just a few centuries shy of my 4000th birthday, and he was… we had nothing in common.”

"Erestor, I hate to tell you, but you are an idiot. How long ago did this happen? Fifty years ago? A hundred? Yesterday?"

"Let me see – we are currently in the year 2509 of the Third Age – well, it was one hundred and thirty-seven years, 7 months and 28 days ago then," came Erestor's muffled reply, for he had pressed his face into the pillow.

"One hundred and thirty - say, I should really think he would be old enough now to suit you, Erestor! Have you never tried to renew your acquaintance?"

Erestor bucked and Legolas lost his balance, rolling over the bed. Erestor sat up and raked his hair with his fingers.

"I see him once in a while when I need a new bow or arrows. He has become a bow maker and owns a little shop at the other end of Imladris. But he does not care for me, I really doubt he even remembers the incident."

Legolas covered his face with his hands.

"For an intelligent Elf like you are, Erestor, you are also remarkably stupid. As if anybody could ever forget their first kiss!"

He moved closer and put his arms around Erestor's middle, pulling him close and resting his head on his shoulder.

"I certainly have never forgotten mine, Erestor, as clumsy as it was. And I would really like to see the Elf who has gifted me with such a wonderful memory happy and loved."

Erestor covered Legolas' hand with his own, gently squeezing it.

"You are a good friend, Legolas, and I have never forgotten it, either. But it is better the way it is. I am not made for company. In my heart, I will always be a warrior, and I cannot see myself settling down."

"Well then, if you like to see yourself as the lone wolf among the sheep, so be it. But I certainly want to see the one who managed to keep your mind busy for – what was it? One hundred and thirty-seven years, 7 months and 29 days?"

"28 days, Legolas, and no, I do not think that this is such a bright idea."

"29, Erestor, as it is past midnight. And as my bow needs some mending, I shall head for the shop of your bow maker tomorrow and have a closer look at him. What is his name, by the way?"

"Glorfindel. And your bow is perfectly in order."

"Glorfindel – ah, I see, you still prefer blonds. Yes, my bow is in perfect order at the moment, but it will be chipped by tomorrow."

Erestor stared at Legolas, and he saw the mischief in his eyes.

"You are evil," he said, and shook his head.

"Luckily for you, I truly am." Legolas stretched sensuously, displaying all his amenities in the most favourable way. He beckoned Erestor. "And now, come here so I can show you how evil I really am!"

He did not have to invite Erestor twice, who rolled Legolas on his back and gently bit his neck.

"You exhaust me. I do not know if I am up to another chapter of Mirkwood Love Secrets, Legolas."

Legolas chuckled.

"Just close your eyes and think of Mirkwood!"

Erestor thought of chapter 8 instead, and the night passed in a most pleasant manner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected customer arrives at Glorfindel's shop, and Melpomaen's timing is not the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

Glorfindel paled when Legolas entered his shop. It had been a busy day, with Elves of all realms coming and going. Only a few days were left until the tournament started, and so all the archers wanted their bows checked. Glorfindel could hardly keep up with the demand, and he was very much looking forward to closing the shop for the day and getting some rest when Legolas turned up.

"My apologies for being late, Master Glorfindel," Legolas said, and gave Glorfindel his brightest smile. "I had to tend to important matters and could not make it earlier."

Glorfindel nodded shortly, thinking for himself that he could well imagine what important duties had kept Legolas. But he would not let his anger and disappointment show, least of all towards Legolas!

"It is no problem, my lord," Glorfindel said. "How may I be of assistance?"

Legolas took his time answering. He looked Glorfindel up and down, curious to learn who this Elf was that had managed to keep Erestor's mind – and possibly heart – captivated for one hundred and thirty-seven years, 7 months and 29 days. A fair one, no doubt, but not the type of Elf Legolas would have chosen. Not a warrior, though his stature was the one of an archer. 'Archery is a form of art for him,' Legolas thought, 'not a type of warfare.' When Glorfindel frowned, Legolas cleared his throat.

"Just Legolas, please. I do not like titles. They make me feel so ancient. I need your help with my bow; I was out for a hunt yesterday, and I have chipped it. As it is my favourite, I would be most grateful if anything could be done to repair it. You have been recommended to me as a master of your craft, so – here I am!"

'Next thing he will do is congratulate me that he entered this shop,' Glorfindel thought. Legolas' cheerfulness grated on his nerves. It would have been easier to hate him if he had been less of an enchanting creature, but not even Glorfindel could escape the Mirkwood Elf's charms.

"My thanks to the one who recommended me," he said, "though I fear he has exaggerated. Let me have a look at the bow, please."

Legolas passed his bow to Glorfindel. The bow maker saw immediately that the large chip missing from the top of the bow had been cut away with a knife.

"I will tell Erestor, but he was adamant that you are the best bow maker in Middle-earth."

Glorfindel almost dropped the bow when he heard Erestor's name. Legolas grinned, then hopped on the sales counter and crossed his legs elegantly. He leaned over to Glorfindel and lowered his voice.

"He speaks very favourably of you, Master Glorfindel. Your skills must have really impressed him."

'One more word,' Glorfindel seethed, 'and I will shove that bow up his backside.'

"Now does he really," he said instead, gritting his teeth. "How nice. I had no idea he even knows me. As for your bow, I can have it repaired by tomorrow evening, if this is convenient for you? And maybe you should investigate among your servants; somebody intentionally cut off this chip."

Legolas clasped his hands in mock shock.

"By the forest spirits, pray tell, now who would do such a dastardly thing! Ah, what has this world come to! But I trust you with my life, and even with my bow, Master Glorfindel. Tomorrow evening it shall be then."

He jumped down from the sales counter, waved Glorfindel good-bye and left the shop.

It was a good thing the Mirkwood Elf was so swift, otherwise the quiver Glorfindel threw after him might have hit him on the head.

* * *

Repairing the bow had not been a difficult task. Once Glorfindel was finished, the bow looked like new. He took great pride in his work, and so he polished and restrung the bow as well. It was silly trying to compete with a radiant star like Legolas for Erestor's affections, but at least he could show him that he was indeed a master of his trade.

It was almost closing time when the door opened and Erestor entered. Glorfindel looked up from his work, surprised to see the captain.

"Well met, Glorfindel," Erestor said, looking a little uneasy. "I come for the bow Legolas brought to you yesterday for repairs. He is unavailable and asked me to pick it up for him."

'Fantastic. Not only does Erestor serve him as a lover, he also serves him as a gofer', Glorfindel thought, knowing very well that he was being unfair. Pathetic as it was, he had to admit that he was jealous. Glorfindel would have given anything, just anything for the right to touch or even talk to Erestor the way Legolas did. He had to get a grip on his jealousy, or he would look like a blithering idiot.

"The bow is finished, and I hope the repairs are to your friend's satisfaction," Glorfindel said.

"My friend? Oh ... Legolas, of course. Yes, he is a friend from my youth in Mirkwood. Lord Elrond calls us 'The Beauty and the Beast,' and I tend to agree with him."

Glorfindel frowned.

"'Beast'? It is not at all like Lord Elrond to talk about a guest in such a way…"

He broke off when Erestor burst out in loud laughter.

"I would think Lord Elrond was referring to me when he mentioned the beast, Glorfindel! The beauty is definitely Legolas, who currently has half of Imladris worshipping at his feet. But thank you for the compliment. You are not beaten with the ugly stick, either."

Glorfindel's skin could not decide whether to pale or turn brick red, so it settled for a lovely pale green. 'You Valar,' Glorfindel sent a silent prayer to the sky above, 'please open this floor and let it swallow me, for I shall die of embarrassment any time soon!'

Alas, the Valar were busy with other things and the floor too lazy to open, so Glorfindel had to stay and deal with Erestor alone.

"I did not mean to… what I tried to say was…" Glorfindel began, unable to build whole sentences. Erestor took the bow and put three silver coins on the counter, far too much for such a small repair, but Legolas had insisted on this price.

Erestor looked at the bow.

"Indeed, excellent work, Glorfindel. And please stop stammering, I remember quite well that you used to have – a certain fondness for me when you were a youngster."

As soon as he had spoken, Erestor wished he could have taken the words back. Confronting Glorfindel with such a memory!

Glorfindel bit his lip and reached out for the coins, taking one and shoving two back towards Erestor.

"You are very generous, my lord, but I cannot take more than my work is worth."

Erestor sighed deeply.

"My apologies, Glorfindel. The older I get, the more thoughtless I become. Please forgive me, I should not have mentioned an event that you very likely do not even remember anymore."

"Oh, I do remember," Glorfindel said. "I remember very well."

An awkward silence filled the small shop. Erestor knew he should leave, but somehow his feet did not obey his wishes. And Glorfindel, who wanted to retreat to his workshop as quickly as possible, could not move either. Finally, Erestor took a step closer, then he covered Glorfindel's hand, which still rested on the counter, with his own, and squeezed it lightly.

"So do I, young Glorfindel."

They looked at each other, and might have found the courage to speak as well if Melpomaen had not entered the shop that very moment to invite Glorfindel for dinner. The spell was broken, and Erestor let go of Glorfindel's hand as if he had touched a red hot iron. He nodded briefly in Glorfindel's direction, glared at Melpomaen and hasted out of the door.

"Now what was that?" Melpomaen asked, looking in puzzlement after Erestor.

"Bad timing," Glorfindel answered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark times in Imladris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

There was no laughter in Imladris, and even the sun did not seem to dare to show her happy face. Grey clouds hung deep over the valley of Imladris, grey as the faces of the Elves living in the place formerly known as the Last Homely House.

There was nothing homely about this place any more. Happiness had left these halls the day Elladan and Elrohir had brought their mother home, saved from the claws of the Orcs who had attacked her and her guards on their way to Lothlórien, but injured in body and soul.

The body Elrond could mend, but there was no salve or draught to save his beloved wife's soul. When all had failed and even the Lady Galadriel could not do anything for her daughter anymore, the family decided to give in to Lady Celebrían's wish to sail West. Maybe she would find peace and healing in the Undying Lands; it was her last chance, and Elrond clung to it with the desperation of an Elf who was about to lose everything he held dear.

And it was not only Elrond – his sons, once so cheerful, always laughing, found no way to deal with their anger and helplessness but to ride out, month after month, hunting and slaying Orcs wherever they could, returning covered in blood and grime. They could not understand that their behaviour put additional weight on the shoulders of their father, for he had to worry that one day his sons might not return to Imladris again.

Glorfindel sat in his workshop, carving on a bow, when Lady Celebrían's servant knocked on his door. He felt miserable. Of course he felt sorry for the poor lady and her cruel fate, and he could imagine how hard all this must have been for her family. But at least she still lived, while Erestor… Glorfindel swallowed hard. No, he could not allow himself to cry now, not with a customer outside. He put the bow away, wiped his eyes and stepped into the sales room.

"Well met, Master Glorfindel," the young Elf said, and bowed. "I come by order of the Lady Celebrían, who wishes to see you before she sails West. It is an urgent matter, so please, come with me right away."

Glorfindel's eyes became wide like saucers.

"Lady Celebrían? But… why would she want to see me?" he asked.

The servant shook his head.

"I do not know, Master Glorfindel, and if I did know, I would not be at liberty to tell you. Please, follow me, time is tight and she insisted in seeing you immediately."

Glorfindel, despite being totally confused, nodded, and followed the Elf. Two horses were waiting outside, so the matter really seemed to be urgent if there was no time left to walk to the Last Homely House!

Upon entering Lady Celebrían's home, Glorfindel shivered under the terrible weight of silence and sadness. How could anybody live here! Without light, without laughter! Certainly every Elf having to dwell here would fade!

The servant walked up two flights of stairs, Glorfindel close on his tracks, and soon enough, they stood in front of Lady Celebrían's chamber. The servant knocked, and without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and gestured for Glorfindel to enter.

Glorfindel swallowed hard on the lump in his throat, then stepped into the chamber. It was a beautiful room, light and airy, with flowers everywhere, but yet there was the same air of sadness that prevailed everywhere else in the Last Homely House.

Celebrían, dressed in a plain white linen robe, sat beside the window overlooking the Bruinen. She did not seem to notice his presence, so Glorfindel cleared his throat to catch her attention.

"Glorfindel, you have come. I thank you," she said. "Please come here and sit beside me."

He had expected her voice to be weak, but it was the same voice he knew, calm and strong, and despite all the terrible experiences she had gone through, Celebrían's voice was comforting and calming. Glorfindel nodded and sat down gingerly in the chair next to her's.

"I would never tell my parents," she finally began, without looking at Glorfindel, "but despite being a child of Lothlórien and loving my home very much, I always thought that Imladris was the most beautiful place in Arda. I often wondered why this is so; only lately I realised that your home is where your heart is, and my heart is with Elrond. It will always be."

She finally turned to Glorfindel, who shivered upon seeing the pained look in her eyes.

"Do you know where your heart is, Glorfindel?"

He looked down at his boots, which were muddy. He could have said 'buried in the snow at Redhorn Gate,' but he did not dare to say this, out of fear to trouble the lady even more. At least he hoped that Erestor had received some form of decent burial; the thought of him ending as some Orc’s nightmeal was too much to bear for Glorfindel.

"You do not answer, Glorfindel, but you do not need to. I know. I only wish that he had known, too. Why do we never tell those we love how we feel until it is too late? Oh, you should have seen him fighting, Glorfindel. When all others had already fallen, he was still standing upright, despite his wounds, defending me to his very death. Had it not be for him, I might be dead today. And the worst thing of it all, my young friend, is that I cannot decide whether this earned him my eternal gratitude or unforgiving wrath."

She turned her gaze to the Bruinen again. Erestor had often reminded her of the river; so dark, wild and cold, yet gentle and beautiful. She could have told Glorfindel more, could have told him the horror of seeing the snow around Erestor's body colouring deep red, how a grey shroud had covered the dark eyes, and what a terrible contrast the thin line of blood running down Erestor's cheek had been to the paleness of his face.

But she would not tell the young Elf what she had seen. She would never tell anyone, and with a bit of luck, she might not remember herself anymore, one day.

Celebrían reached in the pocket of her robe and pulled out a key. She held it out to Glorfindel, begging him to take it.

"This is the key to Erestor's house. I am certain he would have wanted you to have it. All his belongings are in there, his clothes, weapons, memories - do with them as you wish."

"But, my lady…" Glorfindel began, but broke off. He took the key with trembling hands, and stared at it.

Celebrían stood up, and took Glorfindel's head between her hands.

"Go now, my child. Blessed be."

With that, she pressed a gentle kiss on Glorfindel's forehead, then turned again towards the window. Glorfindel realised that she had already forgotten him, returned to a place to which he had no access, and so he stood up and quickly left the room, clutching the key so firmly in his hand that it left imprints.

Just like Erestor had left imprints in his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues in Imladris, and Glorfindel has a visitor he did not expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

The years passed, and things in Imladris went back to normal. Even the most painful wounds heal if given enough time, and who would have more time than the immortal Elves?

Elladan and Elrohir, after years of blind rage and pain, had finally come to terms with the loss of their mother. They got married and, with their wives and children, happiness had returned into their lives. Even Lord Elrond could be heard laughing when he played with his grandchildren, and while everybody still mourned the Lady Celebrían's unhappy lot, life continued for the Elves in Imladris.

Glorfindel's shop was prospering and he had even been able to employ an apprentice, a gangly youth who was the eldest son of Melpomaen's sister. He enjoyed teaching the young Elf his craft, and it brought some diversion into his otherwise rather monotonous life.

Every evening, Glorfindel would carefully lock the door to his shop, and then walk down the road and across the square where Erestor's house was located. It was a small house, furnished in the same chaotic manner as the captain had lived. And contrary to popular belief, Erestor had possessed some books, most of them about warfare and history. No poetry, though, a fact that had not surprised Glorfindel in the least.

Glorfindel opened all windows to let in fresh air, then he dusted the shelves and cleaned everything. He made sure that every piece stayed in the place where Erestor had originally put it, and had one not known of the house-owner's fate, one could have thought that this place was still lived in.

From time to time, Glorfindel would sit down in the comfortable leather seat next to the cold fireplace and read one of Erestor's books. He was not interested in warfare, and he thought that his father had taught him enough about the history of the Eldar to last him for all eternity, but to sit there and hold one of Erestor's books helped him to keep the memory alive.

There were days when he wandered through the rooms of the house. He would open a drawer, look into a cupboard and rearrange a curtain. However, his was Erestor’s house, would always be, and he was a guest. Guests did not intrude the privacy of their host, and so Glorfindel never read any of the letters stacked on the desk. If he touched them, then it was only to remove the dust.

After a while, he would close the windows again and return to the chambers above his workshop. At the moment, he lived there alone, but there had been times when he had had company. Glorfindel had always the best intentions to make his relationships work, for life continued and Erestor was dead and gone, was he not? He could not mourn him for the next two ages and, eventually, he would find another love and soon enough, Erestor would be nothing but a bittersweet memory.

Needless to say, this did not work at all.

"I really like you a lot, Glorfindel," his last lover had told him while she packed her bags, "but I cannot live with you and a ghost. I mean this only in your best interests, but let go of the past. Sell that house."

He had nodded, knowing that she was perfectly right, but at the same time, he also knew that he could not change the way he felt. If Erestor had been right about Glorfindel having a lion-heart, then he would have been able to get over it. But as in all other things, Glorfindel was plain and simple, and once he took a liking to someone or something, he could not let go. He was loyal to the point of stupidity, and his father had often lamented his sheep brain.

One evening, when Glorfindel had just finished closing the windows, someone knocked on the door. How odd! Everyone in Imladris knew better than to disturb Glorfindel here, and everyone knew that Erestor was dead. Who might this visitor be? Maybe an old friend of Erestor who had not heard of his death yet?

There was only one way to find out, and so Glorfindel opened the door, though a little hesitantly. When he recognized his visitor, he felt as if somebody had punched him in the guts, and he took a step back.

"Well met, Glorfindel. I was told that you were here. May I come in?"

It took Glorfindel a moment to recover from his shock, then he remembered his manners and nodded.

"Legolas – what a surprise to see you here! Certainly, come in – if there is any Elf who has a right to be here, then it is you, I suppose."

Legolas, wrapped in a cloak and covered with the dust and grime of a long journey, gave Glorfindel a very odd glance, then entered. He threw his cloak over a chair next to the door. 'He has done this often before,' Glorfindel thought. 'This is much more his house than mine. Lady Celebrían should have given it to him, not to me.'

But he kept his thoughts to himself, and instead he offered Legolas a glass of wine from Erestor's stock.

"Thank you, Glorfindel, I could really do with some wine now," Legolas replied gratefully, then he looked around.

"Nothing has changed here. Everything is still in place. So you have been looking after Erestor's house all these years?"

Glorfindel shrugged while he uncorked the bottle.

"Somebody had to do it. Me or someone else, it would make no difference."

Legolas drank from the offered wine and closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the spicy taste. It brought memories back and, suddenly, the wine tasted sour. Legolas shuddered, then he put the glass back on the table.

"It would make a difference. Glorfindel, I do not wish to beat around the bush: I am here to take you with me to Mirkwood."

"Mirkwood? Me?"

Glorfindel dropped in one of the chairs and stared at Legolas. Had the warrior lost his mind?

"Yes, you. I know that my father would not approve of my request, and he probably had a fit after discovering my departure, but I do need your help, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel did not understand anything. Was Legolas playing a prank on him? But no, the other Elf looked far too serious for a joke, and the clear blue eyes had a haunted expression.

"If there is anything I can help you with, I will certainly do, but I cannot see how I could be of any use to you."

Legolas rubbed his eyes; he was tired.

"There is something that needs to be done in Erestor's memory, and I could not think of anyone more worthy for this task than you. I have to warn you, though, that you would very likely have to face my father's wrath."

Glorfindel folded his hands on the table, and thought about Legolas' words. What was it that Legolas expected of him? Participation in some ceremony or ritual? Was there a custom among the Mirkwood Elves upon the death of a kin that he was not aware of?

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Come with me to Mirkwood, Glorfindel. You will learn everything there. It would mean a lot to me, and I am sure that it would have also meant a lot to Erestor."

This tipped the scale for Glorfindel. If there was anything he could do for Erestor, even post-mortem, he would.

"Give me two days to sort out my business and pack for the travel, and I shall come with you," Glorfindel replied, which earned him Legolas' grateful smile.

"Thank you, Glorfindel. I knew I could count on you."

Glorfindel stood up, and looked around.

Erestor's chair.  
Erestor's table.  
Erestor's books.  
Erestor's bow above the fire.

Yes, it was time to go, and time to let go.

"I am ready," he said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel is on his way to the realm of spiders, wine and choleric kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

The journey was long and exhausting, especially for Glorfindel, who was not used to riding for such a long time. He also was not as weatherproof as Legolas, and suffered from the cold. Luckily, there were only a few incidents of a violent nature on their way. Once they were attacked by a pack of Wargs, but the two archers gave them short shrift, and Legolas complimented Glorfindel on his archery skills.

"You do not only know how to make bows, you also know how to handle them. I am impressed, Glorfindel!"

Glorfindel shrugged, but he was touched by the compliment. He had soon overcome his initial reservations regarding Legolas; the Mirkwood Elf had proven to be a fine travelling companion, and Glorfindel appreciated his straightforwardness. Legolas would have never given him a compliment for his skills if this had not been his honest opinion.

When they were only two days' ride away from Mirkwood, Glorfindel could not hold back his curiosity any longer and began to question Legolas about his home realm.

"What is Mirkwood like, Legolas? Erestor… he never talked much about his home, and I am curious to learn about your realm and its customs."

Legolas poked at the embers of the camp fire with a stick. Then he looked up.

"Mirkwood – the name could make you think that it is a place of darkness, but it is not. It used to be Greenwood the Great, and a lot of its beauty is still visible, though we do have unpleasant things to deal with. When it comes to beauty, it certainly cannot compare with Lothlórien or Imladris, but it is my home. We work hard for our living, and so we appreciate the things we have more than others do."

"Like... gems?" Glorfindel asked, alluding to the infamous love of the Mirkwood Elves for jewels.

Legolas frowned.

"Yes, we do appreciate gems, Glorfindel. They are beautiful, valuable and indestructible. No Orc can destroy them, no spider devour them. They remind us that we can survive any hardship. And my ada is especially fond of white gems because they remind him that we must always stay pure of heart, no matter how dark the times are."

Glorfindel nodded, a little ashamed.

"I can understand that. And is it true that you live in caves?"

Legolas had to chuckle when he saw the slightly doubting expression on Glorfindel's face.

"Some of us do, yes. But do not fear, you will not have to live like a bear hibernating, stretched out on straw and eating from the ground! I dare say that my home is as comfortable as yours. My father has excellent taste, and the Great Cave is not only called "great" because of its size. However, some of us do live in telain, alas only those next to the Great Cave. All others we had to give up long ago."

"Why only there?" Glorfindel asked. "I thought this would be the natural way for Silvan Elves to live? High in the trees, close to the sky?"

Legolas laughed.

"This used to be the case, many centuries ago! But Glorfindel, have you ever seen one of our famous Mirkwood spiders?"

Glorfindel shuddered and shook his head.

"No, and I really hope I will never have to see one!" he said, making Legolas laugh even more.

"Oh Glorfindel, if you had seen one of those beasts, you would understand that every Elf with half a brain would wish to put as much stone between himself and the eight-legged menaces as possible. And you would not like to be greeted by eight hairy legs instead of two soft arms after a night of drinking at the tavern! So we leave the telain to the spiders and enjoy the comforts of our caves."

The thought of having to face a big, hairy and poisonous spider gave Glorfindel the creeps. And while it was interesting to learn about Mirkwood's local fauna, this was not the matter he really wanted to talk about.

He took a deep breath, then turned to Legolas.

"You still have not told me what it is you need my help for."

Legolas shook his head.

"Please forgive me, Glorfindel, but I am not at liberty to tell you. Not yet. I can only beg you to trust me that you will not be harmed, and that your participation is required in a noble deed."

"I suppose I will not get more information out of you, even if I beg?" Glorfindel asked.

"Though I would love to see you beg, as I have no doubt that you would do this very nicely, I unfortunately have to say no. But if the outcome of this journey should not be to your satisfaction, I herewith grant you the right to shove that bow exactly where you wanted to shove it during my visit to the archery tournament in Imladris."

Glorfindel's ears turned lobster red, and he stared at Legolas open-mouthed.

"How… why…" he stammered, and Legolas howled with laughter.

"You are priceless, really! My ada is not only king because he can keep his liquor better than any other, Glorfindel. There is strong magic in our family, and while I am not the Lady Galadriel, thoughts as strong and clear as yours are as easy for me to read as one of Lord Elrond's lengthy and, if I may say so, rather pompous letters."

"I am sorry… I did not mean to…" Glorfindel began, but Legolas cut his little apology speech of by slapping him good-naturedly on the back.

"No need to apologise, Glorfindel. You confirmed everything I wanted to know."

Glorfindel, too embarrassed and confused to fully understand what Legolas had just said, completely forgot to ask what it had been that the other had been curious to learn.

Legolas stood up and went to spread out his bedroll.

"Time to sleep, my friend. Only two days, and we will enter the realm of spiders, wine and choleric kings."

He covered the remaining ambers with sand and left Glorfindel wrapped up in his bedroll, wide awake and lost in thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Thranduil is not at all how Glorfindel imagined him to be, and he begins to wonder if maybe the royal family of Mirkwood is slightly excentric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

Mirkwood was everything Legolas had promised, and more. Glorfindel could not decide what he should look at first. There were trees, so high and old like no trees he had ever seen before, and they seemed to talk to Legolas. They lowered their branches in greeting, and bushes retreated to make way for Legolas and his travelling companion.

All Elves were in tune with nature, of course, but never had Glorfindel seen such a close connection as here. Forest sprites, indeed. He felt a thousand eyes watching him, weighing him, judging him, and not all of those eyes belonged to Elf or animal.

Fortunately, none of the infamous spiders decided to make an appearance, but Legolas had already told Glorfindel that they usually only came out at night. The two rode across the forest, and though Glorfindel could not make out a way, it was obvious that Legolas knew exactly where he had to guide his horse.

Glorfindel heard the murmuring of a beck, and to his ears it sounded as if the millions and millions of water drops held an animated conversation. Everything here was alive, thinking, feeling and speaking, alas in a language Glorfindel could not understand. The beck came in sight, and with it a small bridge leading to the other side.

"See, over there? This is the Great Cave of my father!" Legolas cried, suddenly very excited. It was obvious that he was happy to return home, and he drove his horse on. Glorfindel followed, alas with less enthusiasm.

He almost fell off his horse when, seemingly out of nowhere, two Elves appeared. He supposed that they had been hiding in the bushes or in a tree, but for all he knew, they might also have grown out of the ground.

Both Elves, armed with bows and dressed in green and brown suede, bowed deeply before Legolas.

"Welcome back, son of Thranduil. We hope the hunt has gone well."

They both eyed Glorfindel curiously, and he felt a little uncomfortable. Both guardians, for such they must have been, looked very young, but on a second glance, he could see that their eyes were old, wise and wild. Beings as ancient as these trees.

He swallowed hard.

"The hunt has been excellent," Legolas replied cheerfully, and jumped off his horse. He nodded to Glorfindel, who dismounted his horse in a less risky fashion, and introduced his guest.

"This is an old friend of mine from Imladris, Glorfindel the Bow-maker. Fulfil his wishes, follow his orders and show him the way to the wine cellar if he should ask for it."

Both Elves grinned, and bowed to Glorfindel.

"We have heard a lot of your skills, Master Glorfindel. Pray tell, will you show us some tricks of your trade?" one asked eagerly. Glorfindel, taken by surprise, stammered a few incomprehensible words. Legolas grabbed him by the sleeve and directed him towards the entrance.

"You may pester Master Glorfindel later on with all the questions you might have, but first, we will go and see my father."

The Elf who had addressed Glorfindel winced.

"I do not know if this is such a good idea, Legolas. His reaction when he heard of your return was not overly enthusiastic, to put it mildly."

Legolas rolled his eyes, and Glorfindel visibly shrunk.

"He will survive it. And so will we. Time to meet Thranduil the Terrible, Glorfindel! Do not allow him to impress you. He is kind of heart and could not harm a fly. Just… do not mention any dwarves, will you?"

Glorfindel, doubting that he would even manage to speak a single word in the presence of the legendary ruler of Mirkwood, only nodded, and followed Legolas in a daze.

Walking through the Great Cave was like finding a way through a maze. There were dozens of corridors, and they all looked the same. The ground was covered with sand, so fine that it was like walking on grass, and the light of the torches broke in the crystals embedded in the walls, illuminating the place with a magical, ever changing light. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope, and Glorfindel was absolutely fascinated. This was completely different from the murky cave he had expected; it was a place full of magic.

At the beginning of every corridor, a metal plate with an odd sign was embedded; probably somebody's arms. An odd custom.

"We will now enter my father's Great Hall. Do not be afraid, no matter what he says, and even if you are, do not show it. He has a lot of fun unsettling his visitors."

Legolas winked at Glorfindel, then the two Elves entered King Thranduil's Great Hall.

For a moment, Glorfindel could do nothing but stare. This was not a cave – it was a dome! Stalactites, illuminated by torches, shone in all the colours of the rainbow; crystals glittered on the walls, and the ground was covered with black sand which crunched under Glorfindel's boots. On both sides of the hall, seats were hewn into the stone – probably the seats of the members of Thranduil's council. Or, judging by the arms above each seat, the heads of the various clans of Mirkwood.

It was archaic. There was nothing of the playfulness of Imladris, or Lothlórien's level of sophistication. But there was dignity and magic, and Glorfindel was in awe.

In the middle of the hall stood a throne. It was nothing but a simple stone seat on a small pedestal, but the Elf sitting on it made it a throne nevertheless. Glorfindel did not really have an idea what to expect from King Thranduil, but he had imagined him to be a little like Lord Celeborn on a very bad day.

Instead the Elf who stood up when Legolas and Glorfindel entered was slight of build, smaller than Legolas, and looked even younger than his son. Had it not been for the wisdom of millennia in those green eyes and the stern expression on his face, Thranduil could have been mistaken for an Elf only a few years past his majority. His garments were simple, leggings made of black suede, black boots and a dark-green jerkin. On his head was a crown of ivy, and Glorfindel would have been enchanted by this beautiful being if the king had not obviously been so very angry.

"Legolas! I demand an explanation! Where have you been? And why are you dragging strangers into our realm? Do you not think that two warriors with golden hair are enough for one realm?"

Legolas grinned, and opened his arms.

"Ada! I am happy to see you as well! Come here, let me hug you!"

"I do not wish to hug you. If you were not too old for such business already, I would put you over my knee and spank you!"

"You did not spank me when I was an Elfling, ada, and now it is too late to start new customs," Legolas replied, a cheeky grin on his face.

Despite his words, Thranduil hugged his son tightly, and for a brief moment, Glorfindel could see the expression of love and relief on the king's face. But this lasted really only but a moment.

"And now tell me, who is this and why is he here?" the king growled, and pointed at Glorfindel, who was beginning to feel a little angry about this outrageous treatment. Legolas put an arm around his shoulder and pushed him in front of Thranduil.

"This is Glorfindel the Bow-maker, ada. He comes from Imladris, and he is a friend of mine."

"Ha. Imladris. So you are one of Elrond's bugaboos then, eh? And why are you here, if I may ask? I cannot remember inviting you to cross the borders of my realm without permission."

Glorfindel clenched his jaws and closed his hands into fists.

"I am here because your son invited me, Sire. You may believe me that I would have never set a foot into your realm had it not been for him and the memory of one who has been dear to me!"

Thranduil arched an eyebrow, and much to his surprise, Glorfindel could see the same mischief in his eyes that he had previously found in Legolas'. Being obnoxious, so it seemed, ran in the family then.

"Ah, you have brought me a pepper pot here, Legolas. Good! I like Elves with fighting spirit! Things are far to quiet around here. But as I do not think your intention was to keep your old father entertained, I kindly ask you to tell me now why you disappeared without leaving a note and why you brought along this souvenir from Imladris. You! Put those chairs back, right now!"

Right in the middle of his discussion with Legolas, Thranduil had jumped forward and thundered at two servants who had approached them, each of them carrying a chair.

"But Sire, we thought that your son and his guest might wish to sit down…" one of them whimpered, but Thranduil cut him off.

"You thought, ah? Do not think! It is plenty enough if I think around here! I have told you over and over again that no piece in here may be moved, under any circumstances! Which part of 'never' is it you did not understand? Back with it where you took it, immediately!"

The servants bowed deeply and hurried to follow their king's orders. Glorfindel began to wonder if maybe Thranduil's mind was a little troubled at times.

"Idiots. They will never learn," Thranduil grumbled. "Come, let us take a seat over there."

He led Legolas and Glorfindel to the seats of the council and asked them to sit down. Legolas did not seem to think his father's behaviour to be somewhat peculiar, on the contrary: his friend also glared angrily at the servants.

A very odd family.

"So, speak, son. And I wish to hear the full story," Thranduil ordered once they had all taken a seat. Legolas steepled his fingers and looked at his father with great seriousness.

"I had Glorfindel brought here because of Erestor, ada."

Thranduil paled, then his eyes narrowed.

"Legolas. This is a matter only concerning our people. You had no right to invite an outsider. You broke your word, you promised not to speak of this to any Elf outside of our realm!"

"I kept my promise, ada, for I did not tell Glorfindel why I brought him here. He trusted me without an explanation. I felt that I was right, and you were in the wrong. And as we would have never managed to find an agreement, I acted as my heart told me."

Thranduil snorted.

"Your heart. Of course. And now you expect me to become all soft and forgive you?"

Legolas shrugged.

"I expect you to live up to your reputation as a fair and wise ruler, ada."

Thranduil stared at his son and at Glorfindel, who had no idea what the two Mirkwood Elves were talking about. He seemed to consider his son's words, then he nodded and stood up.

"Very well then. But the responsibility is all yours, Legolas. I feel that this is a mistake, and not what Erestor would have wanted. Whatever happens – you are responsible for the consequences."

Without waiting for Legolas' answer, Thranduil turned around, facing one of the many corridors leading to the Great Hall. He yelled something in a language Glorfindel did not understand. It sounded like a very odd version of Quenya, but Glorfindel, who only spoke Sindarin, was not certain about it.

For a while, nothing happened, then Glorfindel could hear the crunching sound of booted feet on the sandy ground. A hand appeared, touching one of the metal plates in the wall, and finally an Elf appeared, walking towards Thranduil, carefully avoiding the chairs the servants had wanted to move earlier on.

"You called for me, my king?" he asked.

Glorfindel felt Legolas' fingers dig painfully into his arm. He opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas put a hand over his mouth, a silent order to keep quiet. Not that this had been necessary, Glorfindel knew that he could not have said a single word, even if he had been allowed to.

"Indeed, I have," Thranduil said, glaring angrily at his son. "I wanted you to know that Legolas has returned from his little unannounced journey, and thought you might wish to welcome him."

The Elf bowed his head, turning his head to Thranduil.  
"It is good to meet you again, Legolas. I have missed you."

Legolas bowed his head, though it was a pointless gesture.

"I have missed you as well. It is good to be home, Erestor."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is well that ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Enismirdal

Glorfindel had assumed that the loss of Erestor's eyesight might have sharpened his other senses. But still, Erestor did not notice when Glorfindel quietly entered the cave which housed the training area. Unlike the other halls, this one had a ground of very fine sand; falling down would not be overly painful.

There were stone benches along the walls, and Glorfindel sat down on the closest one. He knew that he should have made Erestor aware of his presence, but Glorfindel could not bring himself to do this yet. He had no idea if it was the strong liquor Legolas had given him that made his head spin, or the turmoil in his heart when the fact finally began to sink in that Erestor was not dead. The same Elf he had mourned for these last years, the hero for whom a touching memorial service had been held by the banks of the Bruinen was - alive.

Erestor wore nothing but an old pair of leggings and a green shirt, and he had his bare feet planted firmly in the soft sand. His long hair was collected in one single, thick braid, which hung down almost to his waist. Seeing the well-known single braid, unusual among the Elves in Imladris, was comforting for Glorfindel. It was a small thing, but one that connected the surrealism of Erestor's presence with the reality of the past.

Erestor held a sword in his outstretched hands, his face all concentration on his task. It was an odd dance he performed, swinging the weapon and moving gracefully. It looked beautiful enough, but yet Glorfindel could well imagine how deadly and efficient this skill would be if used in battle.

If Erestor could see the enemy, that was.

Glorfindel's heart contracted painfully when he looked into Erestor's eyes. He had fooled himself for a while there, trying to ignore the truth, but seeing the grey shadows that covered Erestor's pupils made him painfully aware of his blindness. He shivered when he tried to imagine what the world must be like for Erestor now. Not seeing the sunshine, only feeling its warmth. Not admiring the beauty of a flower, only enjoying its scent.

Glorfindel bit his lips, but still a sigh escaped him. Immediately, Erestor spun around, lowering the sword. He looked in Glorfindel's direction, but focused too far to the right to keep the illusion of him actually seeing Glorfindel upright.

"Who is there?" he asked. "Is it you, Legolas?"

Glorfindel swallowed hard. There was no way around this now, he could not simply turn and leave, so he stood up and pulled his jerkin straight. How pointless - Erestor would not be able to see it, anyway.

"No, it is... it is I, Glorfindel."

A multitude of emotions showed on Erestor's face before it took on a blank expression. Surprise, delight, anger, insecurity. Glorfindel had no idea what was going on behind that mask, and did he really wish to find out?

"Glorfindel. So it has finally come to this: my little secret has been found out."

There was a hint of regret in Erestor's voice, but that aside, it gave nothing away about his true emotions. Glorfindel thought about the many things he wished to say, express his happiness and relief, but in the end, this was not what really gnawed at him.

"How could you do this?" he asked. "How could you let us all believe that you were dead? Do you know how much you hurt us?"

Erestor swirled the sword, let it dance over his head, threw it in the air and caught it just before it dropped to the ground. It was a skill he had practicized for hundreds of years, and his hands remembered the movements, even if his eyes could not see anymore.

"But I am dead. Dead to the world, dead to myself, and I wish I could have stayed dead to you as well. You should not have come here, fair young Glorfindel. It is never a good thing to see the heroes of our childhood demolished."

Glorfindel closed his hands into fists, the knuckles standing out white.

"I am not 'young Glorfindel' anymore, Erestor, and the days of my childhood have long passed. I wish to know what happened, and what drove you to play such a cruel trick on us!"

Erestor stared at Glorfindel. Or rather, he stared at a point just beside Glorfindel's head, giving Erestor’s face an empty expression, which was rather disconcerting. Then he dropped the sword, sat down and buried his hand in the soft sand.

"I was severely injured and left for dead on the Redhorn pass. Some Dwarves found me. My king refunded their expenses and brought me home. He made it clear that life in Mirkwood would be better for me, as I would not have to risk my neck for some noble lady who wishes to travel through an Orc-infested area despite everybody dissuading her from doing it. Maybe I should have protested and defended the Lady Celebrían, but as I have secretly had the same thoughts at times, I kept quiet."

Erestor's finger drew swirls and circles in the sand.

"Dwarves are not as skilled in healing as Elves are. They managed to fix my broken bones and stitch up torn flesh, but as for my eyes..." He drifted off.

Glorfindel swallowed hard; his mouth was very dry.

"So you have lived here ever since you... disappeared?" he croaked. Erestor nodded.

"My king has adjusted everything here for my needs. Furniture may not be moved, and the farriers have placed plaques in every corridor. When I touch the prominent signs I know where I am and to which side I have to turn. After all those years, I know the Great Cave by heart, and can move freely without help. Alas, outside of this place..." He broke off, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Lord Elrond could have helped you," Glorfindel said. "He is the greatest healer of our people, and..."

"Spare me your advice," Erestor snapped. "He is a great healer, yes, and I am very certain he would have just loved to spend his time on the Elf who failed his wife!"

Glorfindel shook his head, taken aback by the bitterness in Erestor's voice.

"You did not fail her, Erestor. She called me to her the day before she left for Valinor, telling me how you fought for her to the end. She certainly held no grudge; on the contrary, she spoke of you with great warmth and friendship."

Erestor said nothing, only bit his lips. His face closed up, and Glorfindel did not know what to say.

"Imladris is still your home. Everyone would be happy to see you again."

"You claim not to be young anymore, Glorfindel? Then please do not speak such childish words." Glorfindel was hurt by Erestor's sharp tone, but he knew no reply.

"Oh yes, I could return to Imladris, running into doors and falling over an Elfling's toy left on the stairs. I could totter through the streets and feel the pitiful eyes of my fellow Elves on me. 'Look, there goes Erestor, the poor fellow,' they will say. 'Once he was a great warrior, and now look at him!' I would rather be dead to them. Please accept this, Glorfindel."

Erestor searched around for his sword, then stood up. He walked towards Glorfindel, and came to a halt in front of him.

Glorfindel swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears, but he was not overly successful. Erestor reached out, touching his hair, then gently ran his hand down to Glorfindel's face and cupped his cheek. He brushed the tears away with his thumb, and smiled.

"No reason to spill tears, Glorfindel. Return to your home and your family. I ask only one thing from you, and that is that you keep my secret. I rather be a dead legend than a living object of pity. Let me keep my dignity."

Glorfindel nodded, and his face was burning. Anger, sadness, and the feeling of Erestor's hand. It was like being struck by a lightning, and his knees became wobbly.

"I have your house," he finally said.

"I know. And she was right to give it to you. And now leave, Glorfindel."

With that, Erestor let go of the bow maker, crossed the room and continued his training. For a while, Glorfindel watched him, but when he could be sure that this had been Erestor's last word, he turned and left.

* * *

"I really do not think that this is a good idea, Legolas," Glorfindel protested. He tried to turn around and leave the room, but Legolas held him back by his sleeve.

"On the contrary, this is a very good idea, after all it is mine. What place would be more suitable for a confrontation than here? It is perfect, he cannot run away."

Glorfindel could have throttled Legolas. Or Erestor. Or both of them. This was a nightmare!

"I cannot go in there, Legolas. I… I mean… I would have to take my clothes off…"

Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Of course you have to take your clothes off! What, are you trying to tell me now that you take baths in Imladris with your clothes on?"

"No, we do not," Glorfindel growled. "But… Erestor is in there…"

Legolas patted Glorfindel's back in an almost fatherly gesture.

"There, there. No need for modesty. He will not go blind seeing your precious bits. This aside, he is blind already, and most precious bits look the same, with exception of mine, of course. Seen one, seen them all."

Glorfindel's face turned red. Whether this was caused by Legolas' blunt speech or the heat emanating from the cave in front of them could not be told, though. Legolas felt a tiny bit of pity for the other Elf, who looked like one going to battle Orcs without a weapon rather than like one going to enjoy the famous Mirkwood spa.

"Enough with the discussions already. Go in there, enjoy the sights, declare your love or drown him. I do not care, as long as this saga finally comes to an end. Off you go!"

With that, Legolas gave Glorfindel an encouraging jostle, and he stumbled forward.

The beauty of this place took Glorfindel's breath away. Despite the circumstances, he had to admire this miracle. The Mirkwood spa was actually a stalactite cave, hosting a natural pool, fed by a hot spring. Steam rose from the water, and there was a slight scent of sulphur in the air. Not enough to be unpleasant, but noticeable. Just like in Thranduil's council hall, crystals were embedded in the walls and the roof of the dome. The light of the many torches in the cave broke in the crystals, was reflected by the water and illuminated the cave.

It took Glorfindel a while to collect his thoughts, and he looked around. There was only one Elf in the pool. Not surprising considering that it was in the middle of the night. And Legolas had been right; it was Erestor who floated in the warm water at the shallow end of the pool, oblivious to Glorfindel's presence.

"Sink or swim!" Legolas hissed behind him, and so Glorfindel finally made up his mind and walked along the basin. He was certain that Erestor heard his footsteps, but of course the former captain of Imladris' guards could not know who he was. Erestor did not seem to care who his company was, anyway, for he neither moved his head nor did he say anything.

Glorfindel swallowed hard upon seeing the still figure floating in the dimmish, yellowish water. It was so wrong, standing here and watching, without Erestor knowing it. But yet, Glorfindel could not look away. Erestor's torso was covered with the intricate tattoos of the Mirkwood Elves, telling of his victory. The patterns were interrupted and disfigured by various scars, telling of his lost battles as well. The torn flesh had been stitched together without great skill, and so the tattoos now looked like a badly assembled puzzle.

Glorfindel divested himself of his clothes, and he took his time doing it. Jerkin, shirt, boots, leggings. He shivered briefly when his now naked skin was exposed to the air, but soon he was covered by a thin layer of sweat from the heat. Glorfindel stood on the upper step of the stairs leading into the pool, and waded into the water.

"Is it you, Legolas?" Erestor asked, without moving a limb. "I am not in the mood for wicked activities, my friend. I suggest you try to find relief in the arms of that lovely young armourer of yours."

There was a splash when Glorfindel dipped under the water, and another one when he emerged, shaking his wet hair.

"No, it is not Legolas. It is I, Glorfindel."

Erestor sighed, but made no attempt of fleeing the place.

"Glorfindel. You are still here. Did you not listen?"

Glorfindel clenched his jaws.

"You have no right to order me around, Erestor. You cannot tell me where to go and when to leave. I have decided to stay here in Mirkwood, and I suggest you get used to this idea very soon, for I shall not go away just because you want me to."

Erestor shook his head, surprise on his face.

"And, pray tell, what are you intending to do here in Mirkwood? Far away from Imladris' soft beds and rose gardens?"

"I am a bow maker. What place would be better for my business than Mirkwood?"

"Any place without spiders, I would say."

Glorfindel did not reply, and for a while, they were just drifting in the water, without speaking. There was a slight current in the pool, and so Glorfindel found himself floating next to Erestor soon. Somebody had to break the silence, and as Erestor did not seem to be willing to speak, Glorfindel decided to get it over and done with.

"I love you."

There. He had said it. He had often daydreamed about telling Erestor how he felt, certain that he would never be able to speak those words in the other's presence, and now it had been so easy. So natural.

Erestor turned his head to Glorfindel.

"Nonsense. You are clinging to a romantic childhood fantasy, Glorfindel. I am not the hero of your dreams. I have done bad things, things that I should be ashamed of, but I am not. I have hurt many and been overly generous with my affections. You should find yourself a nice little wife and have a couple of Elflings, Glorfindel."

"Will you stop treating me like an Elfling?" Glorfindel snapped, and before Erestor could say another word, he found himself pressed against the ground of the shallow water, with Glorfindel's body covering his. Two strong hands pinned his own over his head. Erestor, who had swallowed some water, coughed and struggled.

"I do not want a wife, and I do not want Elflings! Ever since the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, I have always wanted one thing only, and that is your love, Erestor. And if it was not for my love, I would hate you now for breaking my heart and making these last years miserable just because your vanity and your ego did not allow you to return to Imladris!"

For a short moment, Erestor panicked. He was not in control of this situation, and that was the worst thing about losing his eyesight. He had to rely on others, had to trust them, and this had never been something he felt comfortable with. He was not in charge anymore. Glorfindel was.

Despite his blindness, it would have been an easy thing for Erestor to free himself of Glorfindel, who was smaller and of slighter built, and no warrior. Years of experience were an advantage to Erestor. He could have thrown Glorfindel off easily and left.

Glorfindel suddenly realised what position they were in. He was painfully aware of the naked Elf underneath him, and he felt the heat surge through his body. Without further thinking, he let go of Erestor and buried his hand in the dark hair, pulled him closer and kissed him hungrily. The kiss tasted of sulphur and the Sloe he had drunk to support his courage. For a moment, Erestor was petrified, then he returned the kiss.

Glorfindel heard muffled voices, and it was like he had been drenched with a bucket of ice water. Realisation hit him - just what was he doing here? He let immediately go of Erestor.

"Erestor... I am so sorry..." he stuttered. "I really did not want to do that!"

Erestor reached out and pulled Glorfindel close again.

"You say so every time we kiss. It is becoming a tradition."

Glorfindel buried his head against Erestor's neck. He felt the warrior's hands on his back, idly caressing his skin. Glorfindel did not have to move; the current of the source feeding the pool rocked him gently against Erestor's body, and he groaned.

"This feels so good," he said. It was a clichéd thing to say, but Glorfindel, who was neither a poet nor a scholar, had no other words to express what he felt like. It did feel good, after all. Felt good to be here and be held by Erestor, inhaling his scent which was mixed with the sulphur. It felt good feeling those hands on his skin, hands that left burning streaks of fire where ever they touched him.

Glorfindel closed his eyes when Erestor nibbled and sucked on his ear. Countless were the times when he had dreamt of this. There had been a thousand scenarios in his fantasy of this moment. Sometimes he had been the seducer, other times the seduced one. But no fantasy of his had ever come close to this. A part of his being which he had thought lost, a piece of his heart which had gone missing had been returned to him.

Erestor, not one for long musings, hooked a leg over Glorfindel's backside and pulled him close, making his wishes known very clearly.

"Do you want me to... have you?" Glorfindel stuttered, and Erestor laughed. It was the laughter of the Erestor of old, the fearless warrior who had caught two young Elves sitting on a wall, eating apples they had stolen from Lord Elrond's garden.

"Now that is something nobody has ever asked me before!" Erestor laughed. "Do I need to show you the way, or will you find it..."

Glorfindel had found his way without further guidance, and Erestor's quip was cut off by a loud groan when Glorfindel entered him. Their love-making was short but intense; there would be time for sophistication later. Erestor would have given anything to see his lover's face now. His fingers caressed Glorfindel's face, and he could feel the sweat on his lover's skin, the way he frowned in concentration, and finally, the expression of ultimate entrancement.

Glorfindel went limp in Erestor's arms, breathing heavily, and the warrior hugged him close, tucking his lover's head under his chin. He stroked the wet hair. Glorfindel took Erestor's hand and kissed it.

Erestor smiled.

"My bow maker," he said, and caressed Glorfindel's back.

"My sword master," Glorfindel murmured, exhausted, and drifted off into sleep.

"My lion-heart," Erestor whispered, and pressed a gentle kiss on Glorfindel's head.


End file.
